


Lesser Angels

by ndnickerson



Category: Nancy Drew - Keene
Genre: F/M, Pre-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-28
Updated: 2009-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-05 10:10:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndnickerson/pseuds/ndnickerson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nancy and Ned find themselves home alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lesser Angels

**Author's Note:**

  * For [glasheen25 (children_of_lir)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/children_of_lir/gifts).



The Christmas tree stood dim, a shadowy hulk in the corner near the fireplace. Before Nancy even unwound her scarf she went to the wall and plugged it in, and the answering glow of three twined strands of tiny white lights made her smile.

The house felt cold, and empty; she could feel the silence radiating from the upstairs bedrooms, the quiet kitchen. Hannah liked to bake to the sound of the radio, tuned to a station playing hits from twenty years before Nancy was even born, lately all Christmas carols. Her father always had something going, a ballgame broadcast on the radio or a crime procedural or just the low familiar rumble of his voice on the phone. Now his study door was closed, the desk cleared for once; the kitchen was spotless.

It was exhilarating and lonely at the same time.

As the Christmas tree lights danced their pattern on the wall, Nancy slowly unbuttoned her coat, pulled off her gloves. Despite a tremendous effort, Mapleton had lost the game to two badly-timed free throws, so there would be no victory celebration, no spontaneous party. When Ned had suggested they go out for something after, Nancy had been quick to offer her empty house, the few hours of time they could spend alone before Hannah returned late from a holiday concert.

The Christmas centerpieces, on the long table, on the entertainment center, on the edges of the stairs, all featured heavy red candles, which Nancy lit one by one, nervous jubilance making her hand shake. She ran her hands through her hair, shoved her still-packed bookbag into the hall closet, applied a fresh coat of lipgloss, while she counted off the minutes it would take for Ned to shower, dress, and drive to her house.

She had never felt this way when Don was on his way over to pick her up for a date, had never felt this way with any of the other guys she had dated. Her skin was almost sizzling with anticipation; her stomach dropped every time a pair of headlights crossed the living room's windows. She kept chastising herself, but it didn't help.

She was head over heels, totally, helplessly, irredeemably in love with him, in Bess's words. That, Nancy had to admit, that denial of responsibility, felt just about right. If she had any control over it she certainly wouldn't want this. She spent classtime daydreaming about his last kiss, the duration of her mindless chores in wondering exactly how late he would dare to push Carson Drew's curfew during their weekend date. It felt like she was losing her mind. It felt glorious.

Her hands twitching for want of something to occupy them, Nancy began to go through the day's mail, her curiosity piqued when she saw a blue envelope addressed to her. She had just torn it open and pulled out the matching stationery when the doorbell rang.

The transformation on Ned's face when he saw her was always nothing short of miraculous. The instant his eyes lit on hers, she saw that warm glow spark there, an adoration that thrilled and humbled her at the same time. Don had been devoted to her, but she had found his ardor tedious. With Ned, it was heady, intoxicating, to know how much he would do for her.

"Hey," she forced past her trembling grin, just before he swept her up into his arms, his mouth lowering to hers as he shouldered the door closed behind him.

Nancy closed her eyes and melted—that was the only word for it, and so thoroughly that George, in all her feminist wisdom, would be disgusted. She scoffed and Bess swooned when the heroines in old movies went slow and starry-eyed in the arms of their lovers. Nancy had been bemused, slightly wistful, slightly dismissive. Fantasy and fairy tales, she had thought.

She had certainly never thought that a guy who was so quick to take charge would be so incredibly sexy to her, either. Early in their relationship she had seen it more often, his hesitancy, his desire for her approval, his need to be sure of her. Now, now that he could order her favorite meal in a restaurant without even the briefest glance in her direction, now that he knew where she was ticklish and how much time she needed to spend with Bess and George just to keep herself sane, now that he knew that she was going to pursue cases with the same single-minded determination he had used to pursue her, he was comfortable, confident, self-assured with her. On her more grouchy days George called him possessive and cocky.

But she loved him for his hesitations, his need for reassurance, and for the increasingly hot and incredibly long kiss he was giving her. She had blushed fiercely the first time he had put his tongue in her mouth. Now it hardly seemed to count as a kiss when he didn't. She clutched hard at his collar, and he boosted her a little higher in his arms, and then their kiss ended in a slow audible pop.

"Hey," he replied with an easy grin, squeezing her hard once before putting her down.

"You," she began, then shook her head, cleared her throat, started over. "You certainly seem happy."

"A few hours alone with my girl without parents breathing down our necks or having to park in the freezing cold?" He shrugged, arms stretched. "If that couldn't make me happy..."

She smiled in agreement, enjoying the way his eyes widened just a fraction as she unzipped his coat, helping him take it off. She did the same with his scarf, and he bent his head to let her unwind it. When she was finished she clutched the wool tight in her fist and brushed her lips over his adam's apple, watching him swallow hard in response.

"Did you have anything in particular in mind?"

The question itself was innocent enough. It was just something about the way he said it, something about the way his fingers brushed lightly over the faded and worn denim of his jeans. The collar of a white undershirt showed just barely from under his rust-colored sweater. 

Particular. His voice had caught on the word, turning it into something else.

Nancy took a step back without thinking, her own hand rising as though in apology. "Pizza?" she said, putting more of a lilt to it, more hesitancy. She hated that. He was on her turf, in her house; she needed to be firm and assured. But something about the way he had said it, she could feel, plunging through her like a fist, leaving her so buzzed that her stomach, her heart felt bruised with the buoyancy of it. "We could put a movie on and... talk."

"Really," he murmured, and then raised his hand, until it was not just resting at her side but stroking just above her hip, firmly, as he stepped fully into her personal space and kissed the corner of her mouth, and her eyes fluttered shut. He had many, many more layers to go, she thought, and the image rose unbidden, of her impatiently tugging that rust-colored sweater over his head, the way his hair would fall in disordered waves, his lips pressed red from her kiss.

She turned, half-sighing, just as he angled his head and then they were kissing again, slower this time, more deliberate, his short nails dragging against her jeans until his fingertips caught her belt loops and angled her hips against his, at once calculated and guileless. She broke it off first, making a low halfhearted warning sound in her throat, but her heart seized uncomfortably when he pulled his hand away.

"Pizza sounds good."

She had to blink a few times before the words he had spoken carried any meaning. "Supreme, no olives?"

He smiled. "Exactly."

She turned on a movie they had both seen, while they waited for the pizza to arrive. She praised the jump shots he'd made during the game and soon the two of them were paying no attention at all to the shootouts and rapidly syncopated conversations showing on the screen. With the lights off, the soft glow from the tree caught in his hair, along the angle of his jaw, and as his hands scooped and swam through empty air, demonstrating the way his last shot should have gone, her breath caught in her throat.

He was so handsome, but that wasn't it. He moved with the grace hard-won of hours of grueling practice, on the basketball court and on the football field, but that wasn't it either. It was his eyes. One glance from him was enough to take her breath away, and the speed at which she comprehended the carefully coordinated maneuvers he demonstrated made him nod approvingly. They were equal. Police officers treated her like a nuisance to be endured, and her father sometimes even slipped into that loving condescension with which he meant absolutely no harm, but Ned was smart, and he didn't just want her to understand his life, he always listened with absolute rapture to whatever she was saying as well.

And that, she had to admit, she ranked higher than his classic, chiseled good looks, his physique, his otherwise thoughtless devotion to her. She wasn't just an idea to him, a child to be discouraged or dismissed, a girl to be objectified. And he wasn't just some dumb jock she could bend to her will and discard at the same whim.

For not the first time she felt a burst of anger, that her mother had been taken so early, that she had absolutely no idea how Ned would expect her to act or react. Carson and Hannah's relationship was comfortable, a friendship that surpassed the simple fact of her designation in their household, but Hannah wasn't the one Carson talked cases with. She had only ever seen how her father treated her, but that left her completely at a loss when the irresistible impulse rose, to draw the tip of a finger down Ned's cheek, to nip at his earlobe, to slide into his lap and gaze up at him, utterly trusting, exhilarated by the forbidden.

"We didn't order any dessert."

Ned blinked once, and smiled. "Hannah usually leaves something, doesn't she?"

They went to the kitchen, fingertips brushing in contact that his sudden glance convinced her was mutually electric, but the cake pedestal was washed and spotless. Nancy checked the fridge for rolls of homemade icebox cookie batter, but all she found was Hannah's emergency backup, the refrigerated dough available in the supermarket that Hannah abhorred for its laziness.

"It's our lucky day," she grinned, setting him to the task of preheating the oven while she located the cookie sheets. She was just twisting her hair up into a ponytail when the phone rang.

"Drew residence."

"Oh, Nan, you are home. The storm has gotten worse up here, and I made it back to Phyllis's house, so we're safe, but I don't want to risk it. Are you okay for the night?"

"Sure," Nancy replied, her brow furrowing. "So I'm home alone?"

"Just until the morning," Hannah assured, relief coloring her voice. "That is, if the plows have been out. How's the weather there?"

Nancy drifted over to the window, pushing back the curtains, just in time to see the delivery boy pull up outside. "Same," she reported. "The snow's light, nothing serious. Give me a call in the morning so I know to be on the lookout, okay?"

"That's my line," Hannah laughed. "Are you sure you'll be all right?"

"I'll be fine," Nancy scoffed, searching her wallet for the cash to cover the pizza. "So don't kill yourself getting home. I'll lock myself in and watch old movies until you get back. How was the concert?"

"Fabulous. All the old songs..." Hannah hummed a few bars of her favorite carol. "All right. Love you, Nan."

"Love you," Nancy replied, clicking off the phone and setting it down just in time to answer the delivery boy's knock. Ned was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, the light touching his hair, and then he was striding over the carpet, digging for his own wallet.

"It's fine."

"No," Ned said firmly. Nancy took the pizza, and they each offered the delivery boy a bill at the same time. He glanced up, his mouth slightly open, and then Ned reached over, fingers gliding just under the hem of her sweater, digging into her ticklish side, and she squealed and jumped away from his armspan. The delivery boy, relieved at the sudden unanimous choice, took Ned's money, thanked them both, and headed back out.

In retaliation, once the door was closed, Nancy shoved her money into Ned's pocket, glancing up just to see that look come over his face, the one she didn't understand, the one she knew too well. He took the pizza from her other hand and tossed it gently to the coffee table, and then he had her pinned to the stair railing, his mouth urgent on hers.

_Oh,_ she thought, breaking away from him long enough to tilt her head, to bury her fingers in his hair, before he was on her again. His tongue slid along hers and she shivered.

The oven beeped, signaling its readiness, and they broke apart, Nancy's face flushing a little as she tugged the hem of her sweater down an inch. She found it slightly too tight, but the glow it brought to Ned's eyes made it one of her favorites.

"Got you."

She smacked his arm, giggling as she came down from the high his kiss had given her. "I'll get you back," she promised.

"Hey, we're even. You're baking cookies," he pointed out.

"What about the hamburger we split last week?"

"If we get started on this..." 

She grinned at him from over her shoulder as she headed for the kitchen. "The paper plates are over there, I'll just put the first batch in the oven."

Ned sat back, satisfied, thirty minutes later. One lone slice remained in the box, picked clean of all its toppings. Only four cookies were left on the cookie sheet, and they were barely cool enough to eat. Nancy finished her soda and rubbed her stomach, purring contentedly.

"Do we need to start cleaning up now?"

Nancy smiled. "Oh. About that. Hannah said the weather's getting bad so she's going to stay with her cousin tonight. So we have the house to ourselves." She didn't trust herself to look at him.

"Really?"

"Yeah. So." She finally glanced over at him, and started laughing when she saw the expression on his face. "I mean, I'll be home alone, and I'm a scared little girl, with no one here to protect me," she said, making her voice breathy and high. She put her hand on his knee. "Would you mind staying here until I fall asleep?" She batted her eyelashes.

"Um... could I borrow your phone?"

"Sure," she said, as his hand closed over hers.

"Hey Mom... good, things are good. Look, I'm over at Nancy's... fine. It's just, the roads are starting to look bad... mm-hmm. And she has an extra room, and... yeah, I'll be home in the morning. If the roads have been cleared... thanks, Mom. Love you."

Nancy had her mouth smothered under her hand, and as soon as Ned hung up the phone, she burst into gasping laughter.

"So let's go to the video store," he said, without missing a beat.

"I'm sorry, what was all that about how bad the roads are?"

Ned watched his hand slide up to cup her cheek as he scooted closer to her, then kissed her earlobe, and she shivered as he whispered right into her ear. "I have been dying to see Pacifica."

She shoved him hard and he laughed, wrestling lazily with her until she was half perched on his lap. "It's supposed to be—"

"The scariest movie released in the last five years? Giving movie critics nightmares? Zack Allen and Janine Hart said it was the most grueling shoot they'd ever had?"

"Something like that."

"And we were gonna go see it..."

"And then I had to help Jenny Malone find who was blackmailing her," Nancy sighed, remembering. "Plus, that whole 'it's the scariest movie released in the last five years.'"

"You saying you don't want to see it?"

Nancy hesitated, nervous about the look in his eyes. "Really..."

Then Ned's hands were under her shirt, tickling her sides, and she squirmed in his arms, shrieking. "Please, please!"

"Please what?" Ned demanded, and as she tried to squirm away he pinned her under him. In retaliation she dug her fingers into his sweater, trying to tickle him, gasping for breath. She tried to draw her knees up, to push him away from her, but he managed to squirm his hips between, so her flailing legs found no purchase. He threw his head back and laughed, sounding like a cartoon moustache-twisting villain, and in frustration she wriggled until she could tug his sweater up and rake her nails against the small of his back.

Ned's response was immediate, and when she realized it, her eyes widened, her face flushing a little. His hands stilled; her hands stilled, lingering at the small of his back, and she gasped for breath as they searched each other's eyes, in the dim light coming from the television. They were so still, and she was afraid to move.

"Hey," she breathed.

"Um," he said softly, shifting his weight, and Nancy's eyes fluttered closed as his hips brushed against hers. He glanced at her mouth, then pushed himself up.

"Sorry."

"No, I... I'm sorry," she said, running a hand over her hair, pulling her sweater back down. "Let's go get the movie."

\--

The shelves were empty. Behind the cases, and he checked behind every single one, they were all out of copies of Pacifica. He turned to her with such a pitiful face that she sighed and wrapped her arms around him, kissing him on the cheek.

"We can find something else to watch."

"But it won't be that," he sighed, wrapping his arms around her in return. "What's your favorite movie?"

"Casablanca," she replied immediately.

"Oh." He kissed her forehead. "That's a good movie."

"And yours is..."

"Usually it's Citizen Kane."

"Usually?"

He released her, wrapping his arm around her waist, as they began to stroll through the rest of the store. "It really depends on the last thing I've seen," he admitted.

"So you're fickle in your affections."

"Depends," he said with a wink. "I always go back to Citizen Kane, though."

"Well, you know... I am a detective."

"I was aware," he said dryly.

"I bet I can find us a copy of that movie." She patted his back. "Sit back and let me work."

She left him still forlorn in front of the empty cases and checked with the clerk at the front, the new-release stations, other horror movies. Just in case, she snagged a few other new releases, and came around the aisle to the sound of female laughter.

"Nan!"

The look on Bess's face, Nancy didn't think about; Ned was still chuckling at whatever Bess had said, as she came over to greet Nancy with a hug. "Didn't expect to see you guys here," she said, eyes bright.

"Ned's dying to see—"

"Pacifica," Bess finished. "Why?" she demanded, turning back to Ned.

He shrugged. "With all that hype, it'll either be hilarious or terrifying," he replied.

"Ugh. Not a good reason." She picked up a box with Julia Roberts's smile lighting the cover. "See, this? Wedding, misunderstandings... there's a good movie."

"Right," Nancy agreed, smiling before she came back over to Ned, wrapping her arm around his waist.

"Anyway, my mom's waiting in the car. Did you two want to go to the movies tomorrow?"

"Sure," Ned said, glancing at Nancy. "What did you have in mind?"

Nancy, feeling restless, disentangled herself as Bess gushed over the latest romantic comedy, even over Ned's wince. She saw the clerk going through a stack of newly returned movies, and in another two minutes, the sole copy of Pacifica in the store was in her hand.

"Told you," she crowed triumphantly, as Ned and Bess wandered up behind her. "What will you give me for finding it?"

Ned grinned, and then dipped her, kissing her passionately, theatrically. "I'll never doubt you again," he promised, swinging her back upright.

Bess's smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "Just give me a call tomorrow," she said, leaving the store with a wave.

Ned was humming happily to himself as they walked back out to his car, the coveted movie in hand. Nancy popped open the case, unable to keep herself from grinning. "Oh no!"

"Oh what?" Ned demanded instantly.

"The label says 'Dr. Horrible's Orgy of Gore'! They put it in the wrong case!"

Ned snatched it from her hands, but she dissolved into giggles immediately, even before he had confirmed for himself that they had the right movie. "Oh, you're gonna pay for that, Drew," he growled, and he chased her all the way to his car, her shrieks of laughter filling the parking lot.

Five minutes after they cued the movie up, Nancy had no doubt in her mind why he had chosen Pacifica—she was glued to his side, practically trying to crawl under him, in an attempt to not see the screen. When she saw how much he was enjoying the attention, she tried to shield her vision with a throw pillow, but even then she couldn't escape the jarring screams on the soundtrack.

"It's not that bad."

"I know what 'not that bad' is," she retorted. "And this stuff doesn't generally get to me. But, damn."

"It's just a movie."

Nancy folded her arms, gazing at him as he gazed intently at the screen. "Mm-hmm."

"Do you want to turn it off?" He glanced quickly over at her, and she sighed.

"No, it's fine. We can watch it."

After the initial pre-credits sequence, the movie returned to more familiar, less flat-out horror territory, to flash back, and Nancy relaxed fractionally. The soundtrack was still making her feel paranoid; whenever the main character opened a door or glanced too quickly in any direction, the persistent whir of an offscreen table saw, or something similar, boded ill.

Nancy was more a psychological thriller fan, anyway. She settled back, with Ned's arm around her, playing gently with the hem of her sweater.

_Hmm._

She leaned in close to him, put her mouth against his ear. "Want me to go pop some popcorn," she whispered, her arm around his shoulders.

He chuckled. "Sure. Want me to pause it?"

"Not on my account," she murmured, kissing his earlobe before she sauntered into the kitchen. Once she was alone she laughed quietly to herself, pulling out a bag of movie-theater-butter. When she came back in Ned had his shoes off, his expression rapt on the screen. She sighed, very quietly, and set the bowl on the coffee table in front of them.

"Thanks."

"Sure," she replied. She kept one eye on the screen, one eye on him, and once they had finished the bowl, she slid her arm around his shoulders again, feeling him slide his own arm around her waist in response.

She knew she might end up annoying him, but the possibility was remote. Besides, he had asked for it.

She began by snuggling up close to him, her head on his shoulder. When the soundtrack rose in warning, or anything remotely frightening happened on screen, Nancy gasped and buried her face against his neck, panting against his bare skin, and she had to grin when his arm tightened around her.

"It's okay, Nan."

During the next lull, she kissed him on the cheek, then rose to take the empty bowl back into the kitchen. She lingered in the doorway without returning to his side, just gazing at him, until she finally drew his attention.

"It's getting kind of warm in here, don't you think?" she asked, and slowly peeled her sweater off, tossing her hair, revealing the thin black satin cami she wore underneath.

Ned had to swallow hard before he could answer. "I guess," he said, unable to take his eyes off her as she slowly returned to the couch.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to distract you."

"It's all right."

She waited another five minutes before she scooted away from him on the couch, earning a concerned glance for her trouble. "Why don't you put your head in my lap," she said, peering at him through her lashes.

"Um—"

"And lie down," she finished, tugging him. "Come on. It'll be more comfortable."

Gradually it was clear that he was paying as little attention to the movie as she was. Finally he gave up and rolled onto his back, gazing up at her. "Nan?"

"Hmm?"

"You're a really lousy actress, you know that?" he told her, drawing her down to him for a long, slow kiss, just as the movie whined its protest with a prolonged crash and a series of blood-curdling screams.

"You don't care about missing the movie?" she gasped, as they broke apart.

"I'll watch it tomorrow," he said, burying his fingers in her hair and pulling her down again. "Let's turn it off. I think it's time for bed."

She showed him to the guest bedroom, then went back to her own to find pajamas, feeling that strange small shiver radiating through her belly. She returned five minutes later, teeth freshly brushed, face scrubbed, in a pair of thin flannel pants covered in tiny pink hearts and a blue tank. Ned was standing in the middle of the floor, shoes off, but the expression on his face was endearingly self-conscious.

"Uh... I just. Did you want me to stay?"

For a split second she considered an arch reply, something teasing, but the vulnerability in his expression dissuaded her. "If you want to," she admitted quietly. "I'm sure the roads are really very dark, and I'd hate for you to get stranded."

"Yeah," he nodded to himself, a small smile crossing his lips, and he tugged his sweater off. When he reached for his fly she snapped the lights off, flushing, and was very sure not to look at him as she walked over to the bed. A moment later he was sliding into the bed beside her, shivering against the cold sheets. She waited the space of a breath, then another, for him to reach for her, but this situation was entirely unfamiliar, and her reluctance to instigate was forcibly drowned by her desire for the comfort of his arms.

Without speaking she rolled onto her side and snuggled in close to him, putting her head on his shoulder, draping her arm over him. He wrapped his arms around her in return, and she sighed happily, her eyes fluttering closed.

"Are you tired?"

His breath touched her cheek. She could see the fringe of his lashes in the pale light. "Not really," she murmured.

"Hmm." He lazily stroked a palm up and down her back.

"Ned?"

He made an inquisitive murmur in response, his fingertips brushing the skin left bare when her tank had slid up.

"You're going to UC, right?"

She didn't look at his eyes, but she made a small sound when he deliberately traced the waistband of her pants, trailing over the small of her back. "Depends on who gives me the best offer," he said, as he had said every other time she had asked.

"Have they made you an offer?"

"Not yet."

She opened her mouth but his hand was on her cheek and then he was rolling over, onto his side, to face her. She kept her eyes open as his thumb brushed her lower lip, as he traced his fingertips down her bare arm.

"We have all the time in the world," he whispered, and she was speechless as he slowly bent to kiss her. His hand fisted in the hem of her top, came up to drag through her hair, as she snuggled in close to him, wrapping her arm around the reassuringly solid bulk of him. Their kiss was slow, teasing, and he deepened it by degrees, leaving her time to back away, to warn him. She didn't.

He pulled back, leaving her disappointed, shivering from the cold air on her skin. "I love you, Nan," he said, very gently, touching her face.

She smiled, almost grinned in return. "I love you too," she whispered.

He smiled and sat up, and she watched him take his thin white tee off, leaving his chest bare. She sat up and he kissed her again, fingertips tracing the line where her shoulder was left bare, his thumbs hooking in the elastic at the small of her back. She stood up on her knees, bending over him, a frisson of delight sliding down her spine as he wrapped his arms around her. He swung her onto his lap and her tongue twisted with his, deliberate, her hair brushing his shoulders. And he was warm, so gloriously warm, and she couldn't stop touching him, sweeping her nails over his shoulder blades so he tensed in response, kissing her all the more urgently, his fists bunching at the hem of her shirt. She broke the kiss and pressed her mouth against the point of his jaw, his earlobe, his neck, as he drew her shirt up, and she tensed when he lifted it above her breasts.

_It's not like he hasn't seen you in a bikini before,_ that traitorous whisper that spoke in Bess's voice rationalized, so she lifted her arms over her head, holding his gaze as she let him strip it off her.

And she knew, mostly, what was going to happen next, from whispered accounts in the girls' locker room, snatches of movies, the talk her father had given her. She was nervous and thrilled when he kissed her again, when he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight to him and they were skin-to-skin, and he radiated heat. 

He laid her back down, her hands roaming over his back as he nuzzled in close to her, not speaking for a long while, just brushing his lips against her cheek or mouth in the faintest kisses. He trailed his fingers up and down her side, over and over, until the sheer sensation of it didn't make her stomach tighten in anticipation. Then he hooked his thumb under her bra and ran it between the elastic and her skin, plucking at the closure.

"N—no," she murmured, sounding unsure of herself, timid. Even so, he nodded, and then he was inching her pants down, just by degrees.

_Bikini_, she remembered, although letting him take her pants off seemed like a much bigger concession than that of her bra. When they were halfway down she yanked them the rest of the way off and tossed them onto the floor, then faced him, her hair falling down her back in an unruly mess.

"That's it, okay," she said, but it came out more like a question. 

"Okay," he murmured, gently nudging her back down. He looked almost amused, but he didn't keep kissing her, just stroked his fingers down her cheek, pushed her hair behind her ear, as she searched his eyes.

"Have you done this before?"

"No," he said softly, moving a little closer to her. "Not really."

"Oh."

"We're not actually doing anything."

That, she had to admit, was true; it would be another matter entirely, were her father to suddenly burst into the room. She smiled. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," he replied, leaning in to kiss her. "And I mean that, really, don't mention it."

She giggled, but as their hips angled together, she felt him brush against her.

"Does it hurt?"

"Having sex?" Ned was almost breathless.

"No. Um..." She gestured vaguely with shoulders and chin. "You were like—that—earlier."

"Oh. It... no." She heard fabric moving against skin in the dark and then he was touching her hand. "It's okay. Do you want..."

Somehow things had managed to slip entirely out of her control, and she'd be able to explain all of nuclear physics to her father more convincingly than this. His hand cupped hers and she tensed, but her curiosity won, in the end. She kept her eyes on his, only their faces above the comforter, as he gently placed her hand on his erection.

"What—what am I—"

"Just... touch it," he advised, and she tentatively ran the pad of her index finger down his length, until she touched his torso. She shivered a little, but he was still gazing at her, waiting, so she curved her finger underneath, warm, yielding—

"Gentle," he said, his breath hissing through his teeth as she brushed her knuckles over the flesh there. Her fingers created a mental image nothing like the illustrations in her health book, nothing like a Ken doll, nothing like any dirty joke she'd ever heard. When she wrapped her fist around his erection, gently clasping it, measuring its thickness, he was gasping.

"Am I hurting you? I'm so sorry—"

"No," he choked out, as she pulled her hand back in concern. "Sorry. It's just... just keep doing that."

Eyeing him suspiciously, she wrapped her fingers around him again, sliding her fist up to the tip of his erection, then back down again. When she did it once more, he was shaking noticeably.

"Good?"

"Yeah, Nan," he murmured, and he buried his fingers in her hair, and then she kissed him again, moving her fist with the rhythm of their kiss, his body arching to hers. She ran her nails lightly up the bottom of his shaft and he jerked back, panting.

"Too hard."

"Then show me," she said, hurt, embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I've never done anything like this before. And you feel so much different than me."

"That's a relief," he joked, and she had to smile. "It's... well, you don't have any vaseline, do you?"

Three minutes later, after she had dug a dusty container of vaseline out of a medicine cabinet and listened to his warnings about what would happen, with his hand wrapped around hers, she stroked his cock. Her face was warm with self-consciousness, but she kept her eyes on his face, noticing the way his grin was almost a grimace, the desperation with which he led her hand. Before she was ready, it was suddenly over, his entire body going slack.

"And... that's what the paper towels were for," he panted, still shaking a little. "Oh... oh God." He collapsed back down to the pillows, tipping his head back.

"Was that good?"

He chuckled. "Yes. Hell yes."

She smiled, still scrubbing the petroleum jelly off her palm. "So that didn't hurt?"

"No. Definitely not."

"You sounded like you were in pain," she replied, making a face at the chill-induced gooseflesh rising on her arms before sliding back under the sheets.

"That was... not pain," he said slowly. "Not at all. God, you're gorgeous," he murmured, pulling her to him. She leaned over him to return the kiss, remembering that he was probably still exposed.

"So what did we just do," she murmured against his cheek, after they had broken apart, and he pushed her hair back and whispered it into her ear. She nodded, flushing a little. It made sense. And it didn't count.

Although her plausible deniability, as far as her father was concerned, was dropping by the second. It would definitely count if he heard about it.

She snuggled against Ned, enjoying the all too rare sensation of his bare chest under her, the ability to lazily trail her fingers over him without worrying about who was watching. "If you go to UC, maybe we could spend the night like this more often," she pointed out, drawing a slow circle that accidentally brushed his nipple. "If you'd want to."

"I'd definitely want to," he said, stifling a yawn. "Is it okay if I sleep naked?"

She imagined it, flushing again, and imagined the remote but still barely conceivable possibility that he could roll over in the middle of the night and she could wake up pregnant.

"I'd rather you didn't," she said, apologetically.

He shot her a look of only partially feigned disappointment and pulled his boxers back on. "This enough?"

"Yeah," she said softly, and curled up against his shoulder. As soon as she closed her eyes, she felt his arm go around her, and she breathed in, her heart full.

_I love this,_ she realized, nestling against his side. _This feels right._

She drifted off to sleep, imagining weekends spent lounging in his dorm room at UC, thrilled with the knowledge that she could touch him, just touch him, and provoke such a response in him. The thought of doing anything else was almost breathtakingly scandalous, but all she was doing was touching him. That was all. No risk, no problems.

He had been naked under her.

Bess was going to die of sheer jealousy when she heard about this.

Nancy had just slipped below the threshold, her limbs heavy, drowsy and relaxed, when Ned moved under her, and her eyes came open, slowly. She buried her face against his shoulder.

"Hey," he whispered.

"Hey," she breathed, almost slinging her leg over his before reconsidering.

"Can we roll over?"

She grumbled softly but turned to her other side, and smiled when he spooned up behind her, his arm casually draped over her chest. She was drifting when he shifted, drawing her back, and she almost groaned a complaint until she realized that he was fumbling with the closure of her bra. She opened her mouth to protest, just as it came undone.

"Ned," she warned, making sure the cups were in place before she folded her arms behind her, to fasten it again. "I said—"

"I know," he murmured, and his voice was incredibly sexy, gravelly with sleep. He slid the ends out of her unprotesting hands. "I just thought it was only fair. Me being shirtless and all."

She sighed, a quarter of her brain telling her that giving in to this meant nothing, the rest just cackling darkly to itself. Her pulse jumped. "I don't know."

She was still holding the cups in place when he slid the straps down her arms. "It's not like I can see you," he pointed out, and kissed her shoulder, and she closed her eyes. "We'll keep everything else on."

For another moment, she wavered, and then he was pushing her bra off, and then his hands were cupping her breasts, squeezing them gently, and she let out a soft moan of pleasure. He ran the ball of his thumb over her nipple and the sensation left her aching, nearly begging for more.

"Is this okay?"

"Yes," she whispered, as he barely flicked her other nipple, and she shivered. "Oh..."

"You aren't going to show me how you like this?"

There was humor in his voice, and she had to concentrate to make any sense of what he was saying. "I don't do this," she replied, the faintest scorn in her voice, but, damn him, she was rubbing against him, arching into his touch.

"Oh," he replied, and kissed the back of her neck. "Does it feel good?"

"Yes," she admitted, and she trembled when he very briefly, very lightly caught her nipple between index finger and thumb. "Yes," she said even more quietly.

And then, there came the point where he didn't ask her if it was all right, maybe because he knew that she could never say it. He traced meaningless patterns on her belly, each spiral bringing his fingertips closer to her panties, until he had cautiously slid his hand beneath. While his other hand gently teased the hard tips of her nipples, he slowly touched her.

"Wow," he said softly.

"Yeah," she agreed, shaking a little as she opened her legs to him.

And then much, much later, when her heart was pounding and everywhere their skin touched was tacky with sweat, she set her mouth and reached over him for the vaseline, and this time when he came, her strokes firm and sure, his fingers brushing in butterfly touches between her thighs, he cried out and her hips moved under his caress and she felt the first tug of that fine tenuous thread before his hand stilled and her hand stilled and they lay panting side by side, and she knew then what her father had never quite been able to explain, what she had never before found even fathomable.

She wanted him to do more than touch her. She wanted to see that look on his face when he was making love to her, and as much as the idea of it still made her feel nervous and scared, that desire was stronger.

"Oh," she said softly, and she was aware of herself again, her breasts bare, Ned's hand in her underwear, her fist loosely clasping his cock, and Ned almost entirely naked and completely spent beside her.

_Oh._

Then Ned was pulling away and she was painfully aware of her nakedness as she grabbed a handful of tissues again. When her hands were no longer slick she felt in the dark for her bra and pulled it back on, breathing a sigh of relief as she fastened it.

"That was amazing."

"Yeah," she agreed, pulling the comforter back over her.

"Was it good?"

She turned to look at him and nodded, tucking her legs up. "Is there a name for that?"

He paused, some darkly amused look passing over his face before he answered. "Third base."

"So we didn't, just..."

She knew they hadn't, but it was a relief to see him shake his head, anyway. She rolled onto her side and snuggled up against him, sliding her leg up over his.

"Thanks," she whispered.

"Anytime," he replied, brushing a kiss on her forehead. "Really. I mean it. Anytime."

She giggled and tightened her grip on him. "Good try, Nickerson."

He was quiet. "You... you're okay, right?"

"Yeah," she replied. "Are you okay?"

"Very, very okay."

She closed her eyes. "You know, you have to marry me now."

"H—what?"

"Else I'll tell Dad what you just did."

She kept her eyes screwed tight shut and could almost hear him go into cardiac arrest, incoherent with shock, until she couldn't help it anymore and started laughing, great breathless peals of laughter.

"Oh, oh, you awful girl," he growled, as she drew her knees up, shaking from the utter hilarity of it. "You'll pay for that this time, I mean it."

She squealed and squirmed away from him, as he ruthlessly tickled her, and then she beat him with the pillow and then he pinned her, grinning triumphantly, and she gazed up at him, gasping her breath back, smiling so broadly her cheeks hurt.

"I am so, so much in love with you," she admitted, searching his eyes.

His grin relaxed into a smile. "And I am so in love with you," he whispered in reply, leaning down to give her a kiss.

And when she dreamed, falling asleep after many false starts and impromptu tickle fights and apologetic kisses later, she was safe and secure in his arms, every brush of his skin against hers stretching her tighter until she knew she would burst.

This, finally, was where she belonged.


End file.
